Chapter 8

Normal POV

It was the same start to the dream he'd seen so many times before. The bonfire. The harvest. The disfigured man killing the woman who scorned him in a rage…the damnation. The punishment.

But unlike so many other times…that was not the end of the dream.

Instead, Michael stood among several other faceless young men, watching dark hooded figures holding lanterns come into view, illuminated only from their lanterns and the dying firelight.

"During the time of our ancestors." A faceless figure in the most ornate robes Michael could make out, spoke. "A curse was placed upon the tribe that once per cycle, one of our youth must carry and pay the price for the good of the tribe. Upon completion of the ritual, when he comes of age he shall be rewarded. From the harvest of Samhain through the dead of winter, his actions and sacrifice having kept the tribe safe from harm to see the dawning of the next Beltane."

Though the words made only barely more sense than they had years prior when these strange dreams began, always full of mentions of sacrifices and bloodlines – he felt himself standing stoic but at full attention as the hooded figures murmured in agreement.

"And for that completion of the sacrifice, there is blood to be repaid for the loss of the bloodline…"

Several more figures, women this time dressed in light colors and draped with flowers stepped forward in procession before ceremoniously stepping aside to reveal the familiar girl, flowers and thorns braided delicately in her dark hair, the firelight dancing on her skin as she seemed to glide forward to Michael's side, familiar hands reaching for his.

"Is this the one you have chosen, then?"

Michael nodded.

When he blinked the men and women were chanting in a language he didn't understand while his hand was fastened to Lynn's with twine…

Michael woke with a start to the empty beige walls of his room, light filtering in from the window. Unlike before, his heart wasn't racing. Instead, he yearned for the dream again.

Not the dark, violent one that had followed him for so many years, but it's aftermath. He'd face the nightmare all over again if it meant the dream would end with Lynn. If anything, it confirmed what his doctor should have figured out by now. She was his.

—--

"So you mean to tell me, you want to prevent any interaction between two of your patients that show positive social progress when together?" The supervising doctor of Smith's Grove sounded incredulous, looking up from the reports on his desk with a quirked eyebrow.

"I have faith that Lynn Brenson has the social capabilities to form positive relations with other, safer patients. She's made marked progress in the past few months." Loomis replied. "This motion is raised out of concern for the girl and ensuring she continues making progress."

"While ensuring Myers…ceases to make progress?" Dr. Foster emphasized. "Sam, you do remember these are children, correct?"

"Michael Myers may be a child but I've made no more progress in the five years he's been here – if you'd take my motion seriously you'd have him transferred to the high security ward!"

The high security ward was for the most dangerous patients at Smith's Grove, proven a great danger to themselves or others- many were criminals or other violent individuals of the like, sealed in rooms behind heavy doors for the protection of the staff and the patients themselves.

"Sam, you said yourself the boy doesn't speak, and barely if at all moves beyond prompting– taking away the only socialization he has outside of appointments would be–"

"I'm telling you, it's possessive." Loomis warned. The older man shook his head and dismissed his colleague.

While Loomis wouldn't be able to prevent all interaction with the two, he could certainly adjust the timeframe in which he spent his four hours a day with Michael…

—

Lynn POV

I scanned the faces in the cafeteria for the hundredth time, but there was still no sign of Michael.

He was never late. He never left his room unless it was for sessions, our scheduled recreation time or meals – but he wasn't anywhere to be found.

I noted Aaron's eyes lingering on me from across the room and put my head down, trying to make a barrier out of my hair. 'just breathe. It's fine. You're fine. He won't come over here…' I murmured to myself. I heard a tray clatter on the table across from me and about jumped out of my skin.

"Hey, hey, relax." Andromeda's tone was even. "I noticed that guy from a few days ago looking over here…okay if I stay?"

"Oh. Yeah." I panted. "You…don't have to though."

"Have you thought that maybe I want to?" He smirked, pushing some orange colored mush around on his tray. "It's nice to talk to people y'know. And with the rumors of what I did going around, not a lot of people are willing to…and maybe I just like you, half pint."

"...you are pretty nice." I conceded. "What did you do though?"

"Mmmm, not sure if I want you scared of me…" he muttered. "You're jumpy enough already."

"I don't think its worse than murder, sooo…" I shrugged. He smirked again.

"Arson…manslaughter…no murder though." He admitted. The comfortable back and forth continued like that between us for the rest of meal time and well into recreation time where Michael was once again absent. I noted one of my doctors watching us expectantly.

"I…think I'm going to head to my room early." I excused myself, checking the halls for Michael as a last-ditch effort, I glanced around to see if any nurses were doing their rounds nearby before heading towards his room – inside I could see him staring blankly at the opposite wall while Dr. Loomis sat in a chair pulled across from him. I caught Michael's eye and tilted my head, but his gaze stayed dark enough to make me shrink away and head back to my own room.

–

It was some point late at night when I heard something in my room shift. I sat up, startled and looked around the room rapidly, drawing in breath to scream when I noticed a human-shaped shadow near my bed. A hand reached out for my shoulder to quiet me.

"Michael?! What are you doing here?" The whisper came out like a hiss. "You scared me. Where were you today?"

"He wouldn't let me see you. He doesn't want me around you…" he muttered darkly.

"Dr. Loomis? Why?" I never understood the rage Michael felt toward the old doctor, sure the rules drove me crazy and all the prodding and prying into things I wasn't ready to think about was annoying but…

Michael just shook his head.

"Is…that why you were just…watching me then?"

He moved closer to me and looked away.

"I…come in here sometimes…on the nights I have the dreams of the Man in Black…and the hooded people." The moonlight beaming though the window softened his face. "Being near you makes them go away…or gives me the other dream."

"Oh? What's that one?" I lean toward him without thinking.

"Well…you're there, with lots of flowers…and there's this ritual where they tie our hands together but it's…nice." His face was mere inches from mine. I let out a little shuddering breath and before I can determine who moved first, our lips were pressed together, his breath hot on my face.

"You can come in here whenever you like…" I pressed my forehead to his. "Don't stop seeing me."